


Interstice

by micehell



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-11
Updated: 2005-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vader learns to let things go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interstice

**Author's Note:**

> Well, besides the rape warning, I guess I should mention that there's a smudge of het, a tiny little Firefly nod, and my tendency towards purple prose and melodrama. ;) Written for the November's Nightmarish Nocturnes of Non-con fest.

Palpatine smiled, the sagging, pallid skin wobbling loosely. "Removing the mask for any reason would be… an unwise decision."

::::::::::

Anakin bit his lip, not letting the cry escape him. He wiped at his eyes, far too old to cry over a scraped knee like some little baby. He was a man now, a full six years old, and he could handle this.

But it hurt a lot.

There was a hand on his head, the calluses on his mother's palm brushing over his hair, his forehead. "Oh, Ani, that looks so painful. Come here and let me clean it so it doesn't get infected."

Seated on the kitchen table, hands fisted in his lap, Anakin bore the cleaning stoically, until his mother applied the scarce, precious bacta, which stung past bearing.

She kissed the sting in his knee, his wet cheeks, and even though he was a man, a full six years old, and far too old to be doing so, he pressed his lips to his mother's cheek in return, holding tight, letting her kiss and the bacta and make everything better.

::::::::::

The gnarled hand adjusted the black leather glove, pale lips pursed as Palpatine considered the fit, then adjusted it again, a nightmare tailor putting the finishing touches on his nightmare creation.

"The nerve damage in your remaining hand was much too severe to completely repair. I had considered just having it removed, but I remembered how much you pined the last time. You won't be able to feel a great deal of sensation with it as it is, so best leave the glove on to protect the hand from further damage."

::::::::::

Amidala giggled as he trailed a hand lightly over the rise of her stomach. "Anakin, stop. That tickles."

He just smiled, dropping his head to kiss one pale shoulder as his good hand ghosted over her flesh, hovering just shy of touching, the downy hair following his path like grass in a wind.

She pushed up, straining for contact even as her swelling belly weighed her down, but he pulled away.

Anakin kissed her lips, swallowing her complaint before he finally stopped teasing. He loved the feel of her, loved the sighs and laughs he could draw with his touch. His fingertips tingled with the excitement of it, dragging lightly over neck and chest, firmer over breasts, rubbing the tight nubs until they were a deep, dark red. Then flesh skimmed flesh, moving down, stroking into firm thighs, the mound between, slick with waiting, wanting, the fingers sinking deep in welcoming folds, drowning them both in sensation.

::::::::::

Palpatine walked around him, studying him from every angle, looking for flaws. Weaknesses. "The Jedi are no more, the Order destroyed."

He paused, his continuing affair with dramatic effect, then said, voice deepening, "Except for the one who resented you. The one who betrayed you. The one who left you in pain and misery, devoid of any mercy."

Palpatine stepped closer, staring intently at the mask, as if he could read the expression hidden beneath it. "Find your former master for me, Vader. Find your former friend. And when you do… kill him."

::::::::::

The two tiny suns were setting on Persephone, the temperature dropping fast in their wake, but still Obi-Wan showed no signs of wanting to go in. Anakin gave a sigh, long inured to his former master's love of too-cold air.

Obi-Wan turned to him, a small smile on his lips, real instead of the usual smirk. "Did I tell you that I'd been here before?"

"No, Master. When was that?"

"Oh, it was long ago, twenty years and more." Obi-Wan looked back to the sunsets, seeing memories in their pale glow. "The mission primarily consisted of standing around and looking noble while the ruling council gave speeches. As I was fourteen at the time, short and skinny, with a voice that tended to break at the oddest of moments and the occasional spot, you can guess how much in demand I was."

Anakin laughed. He'd rarely seen his master look anything but perfect. He wished he could have known Obi-Wan in his inelegant youth.

"I wound up out on the Red Dunes, foolishly looking for adventure," and here Obi-Wan's voice morphed into a credible imitation of Yoda's, "which a Jedi craves not." His voice went back to his normal tones, steeped in fond memory. "And which I unfortunately found in the form of a broken leg while I was miles from any help. I still had my comm with me, thankfully, but I was terrified to use it, knowing that if I called Qui-Gon to come and save me, he would leave before the speeches were finished, something sure to displease our hosts. I had visions of being kicked out of the Order for botching up what should have been a simple mission, so I lay there for hours, trying to fix the leg on my own. But I rather botched that up as well, and eventually I had to call Qui-Gon."

Anakin laughed again, a hapless Obi-Wan even harder to imagine. "What did he do?"

Obi-Wan turned back to him, grinning. "He came and got me, of course, but he had his stern 'that isn't how a Jedi behaves' expression on."

So that's where he got if from, Anakin thought, but he didn't quite dare say it out loud.

"I was sure that I had sunk further in his regard than even Xanatos had. But he didn't say anything as he helped me with the pain, or when he helped me get in the speeder he'd borrowed - and the thought of Qui-Gon having to beg a favor to go and rescue his idiot apprentice was so mortifying I wanted to be under the speeder rather than in it - and I was almost shaking with waiting for him to tell me I was no longer his apprentice. But then he smiled and said, 'While I'm extremely grateful for the reprieve from listening to hour four of the Minister of Solid Waste's perhaps less than scintillating speech on his new resource database, I would appreciate it if next time you didn't go to such lengths to help me out.' Then he took me to see the med-droid and bought me ice cream like I was four instead of fourteen." Obi-Wan smiled as he finished, laughter touching his voice.

Anakin smiled back, but it was wistful, overshadowed by the echo of pain. He looked down at the hand that wasn't truly his anymore, remembering Obi-Wan buying him ice cream after he'd had the prosthesis fitted. Remembering it from every time he'd had to see a healer. It had always been their ritual; another thing he'd inherited from Qui-Gon.

Anakin had wondered many times what it would have been like to have been trained by Qui-Gon instead of Obi-Wan, if perhaps things would have been easier. Obi-Wan was still smiling at him, obviously happy in Anakin's company, with the memory of his master, and Anakin finally saw that, in a way, he had been.

::::::::::

Palpatine left, still smiling at his new creation. Vader looked at himself in the mirror. Body made tall and strong again, fearsome. His enemies would tremble, and he… would always be alone.

::::::::::

He let his cock kiss along the lips, along the eyelids closed in reflex and pain. Let his cock slide over those elegant cheeks, leaving smears of saliva and ejaculate across the face, the beard, the burn of the whiskers against his spent cock delicious. It had been so long since Vader had felt pleasure, since he'd felt anything but pain.

Vader untied the sash from around the waist, thinner than he remembered, signs of a fugitive's life. He clamped down hard with the Force, enough to keep his prisoner, but not so hard that Obi-Wan had no hope of escape. He removed the tabard, then the tunic, taking his time, letting the helpless struggles fuel his growing need.

His glove traced the blaster burn that ran across Obi-Wan's shoulders, enjoying the hitch of breath it produced. Vader added more pressure, leather sinking deep, his other hand skimming lightly over hard ivory, soft pink, smearing warm red over lips trembling with the scream hiding behind them.

He was fully hard then, the smell of sex and blood, the faint, high keening, chasing away the slow movement towards pleasure, the need for finesse. He pushed Obi-Wan to his back, tearing away the belt, pushing the pants down, just enough, enough. Obi-Wan's bound hands raised his hips slightly, throwing his weight across the damaged shoulders, but Vader lifted the hips higher, pressing Obi-Wan's knees into his chest, Vader's weight keeping them in place as his cock stabbed into Obi-Wan's hip, his leg, his ass, pulsing madly as the scream escaped, aching at the feel of soft, smooth flesh squeezing tight around his own.

Vader thrust hard, spreading warm blood onto his cock, easing the burn, adding to it. He pushed Obi-Wan's knees higher, boots digging into Vader's sides, past the gap in the armor, as he bent him over, back, going as deep as he could, his hips, his balls, stinging with each slap against the body beneath him. He could hear Obi-Wan's cries, smell the iron and salt and semen, and his vision was blurring with the pleasure, his cock hurting from the force of his thrusts, and it wasn't enough, it was never enough, as he was soaring, melting, falling.

He lay there, spent, Obi-Wan holding his weight. Vader's breath sounded alien even to himself as his lungs pulled for oxygen through the filter of the mask, but he ignored it, concentrating on the trembling body under him, the desperate sobs for breath that he could feel even through layers of cloth and damage, and his cock twitched again, thinking far more of itself than even he was capable of.

The cock slipped from Obi-Wan's body, leaving Vader feeling empty. But all good things must end. Must end. He must end…

The thought, the deed, slipped away as he was moving, the Force push shoving him back, up, over, the floor of the room ringing through his helmet, his head clapping against its sides. He came to rest on his back, facing a night sky visible through the window, bright points of light making new constellations that danced in front of his eyes.

Vader lay there until the lights faded, leaving only the window, the sky, the pale, faint shape of Obi-Wan's body, graceful even in pain, disappearing into the distance. He took his time rising, letting Obi-Wan fade. He made no move towards the comm by the door.

Then Obi-Wan was gone, the pieces of him that had still remained in Anakin leaving only emptiness in their wake. Vader smiled behind the mask that could never come off. "When next we meet, my Master, I _will_ be strong enough to kill you."

The human parts of his body feeling sated and relaxed, Vader wiped away the blood and semen from his cock, watching the empty sky beyond.

/story


End file.
